


Nothing Is Said Backwards

by LilacFree



Category: DCU (Comics), Harry Potter - J. K. Rowling
Genre: AU Harry, Gen, Hufflepuff Harry Potter, savaged by plot bunny
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-09-30
Updated: 2019-09-30
Packaged: 2020-11-07 23:29:07
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 6,182
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/20825591
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/LilacFree/pseuds/LilacFree
Summary: This is a story fragment that was nibbling at me while I write a larger and more complex Harry Potter story.  Harry is adopted by Kara, and comes to Hogwarts, where his new name is sure to be found out as an alias for the Boy Who Lived And Vanished Out From Under Dumbledore's Nose.





	Nothing Is Said Backwards

**Author's Note:**

> This is my first official Harry Potter fanfic. Yay me. Thank you, J.K. Rowling for having such a fanficcable work and not minding if we play in her sand box. This is not beta'ed. This is not Brit-picked. It's too minor a work for that. Please let me know if I've flubbed something. There are AU aspects to the story that I developed for the larger one I am writing and used here as it is all currently in my head.

The boy was tall for an eleven year old, with bright green eyes and wavy dark hair that swooped low over one eyebrow. He easily hefted his trunk aboard the train and picked an empty carriage. He put his trunk on the rack, then opened the window. “I’m all set, mum.”

The pretty blonde woman who came up to the window could have been taken for an older sister of the boy if you didn’t look at her eyes that held more years than her face showed. “I’ll be off then. I love you, Will.”

“I love you too, Mum. Don’t worry too much, okay? I’ve been getting ready for this for years.”

“I’ll try. May Rao illuminate your journey.” She gave Will a mischievous little grin, and walked briskly away. A tumble of blonde curls gave away her backwards glance. Having caught this, Will closed the window a took a seat. He had left the door open. Students walked by and some glanced in, but it was only until the train was about to depart that a red-haired boy walked in.

“Mind company? It’s full up everywhere I’ve looked.”

“Of course not. Make yourself comfortable. I’m William Danvers — call me Will.”

“Ron Weasley, nice to meet you.”

It wasn’t long before the conversation moved to Quidditch, that sport being Ron’s favourite topic. “I really think the Cannons are going to do great this year. How about you, who do you follow?”

“No one, yet. I’ve never seen a game of Quidditch.”

“Oh, Muggleborn? Not that there’s anything wrong about that, but Quidditch is a great game, you’ll see.” And Ron proceeded to help that seeing along with his encyclopedic knowledge of all things Quidditch.

A girl looked in. “Excuse me, have you seen a toad? A boy named Neville Longbottom has lost one if you see it.”

“No, but we’ll keep an eye out.”

“Thank you,” she said, and went briskly on.

“I’m glad I got an owl,” Will said. “Isn’t she lovely? I named her Hedwig. I want to write to Mum and let her know how I’m doing.”

Ron displayed his rat. “My brother Percy gave me Scabbers here. He got an owl this year because he’s—”

“—a prefect,” two voices chorused from the corridor. “We’re going around making sure everyone knows Percy Weasley is a prefect,” said one.

“In case they can’t tell from the badge,” said the other. “So here’s where you are, Ronnie-kins, all snug with a little friend already.” They were twins, obviously Ron’s brothers by the look of them.

The first held out a hand. “We’re his older and better looking brothers, Fred and George.”

“Will Danvers. Nice to meet you.” Hands were shaken all around. His brothers shook Ron’s hand too, and each others.

“Scabbers doing alright? I still say he’d look better yellow.”

Ron tucked the rat back in a pocket. “This explains why Percy didn’t give him to you,” he sniffed.

“Gred tried to bring Ginny as a pet first year but Mum made him give her back. I’ll give it to the girl, she was ready to be smuggled in a trunk.”

“Forge would have gone from the Sorting Feast straight to Azkaban for suffocating his sister. A new Hogwarts record!”

The treats trolley came around and Will bought a generous assortment to share. “I haven’t had much wizarding food yet. Tell me what all this is.”

Fred and George lingered for the food. Presently a tall dark boy came looking for them. “I wondered where you went. Little brother need his hand held? Hi, Ron!” His good-humoured smile took the sting out of his words.

“Hi, Lee. Lee Jordan, this is Will Danvers.” Hands were shaken again until there were no hands left to shake.

“Did you bring the tarantula?” asked a twin.

“Couldn’t leave him behind.”

Ron shuddered. “Yes, you could.”

“Would you like to see it, Will? He’s brilliant.”

“Yes, but if Ron—”

Lee jumped in. “Quick, Gred, Forge, build a wall!” Fred and George grabbed onto each other and formed a fairly cohesive, if unsteady barrier between Ron and the possible sight of a spider. They might fall on him and crush him but he wouldn’t see the spider.

“I hope it works because if I have to go out that window you’re explaining to Mum,” said Ron disconsolately.

Lee produced the spider from an improbably small pocket. It was in a clear sided box with small holes on the top and a curl of bark to give it a hiding spot The tarantula was very furry with a black body and red legs. “It’s a proper Gryffindor. I couldn’t resist.”

Will leaned in for a closer look. “It has a kind of mild look in its beady little eyes.”

“It’s very relaxed until it sees dinner. Then WHOOSH and another cricket goes to that great meadow in the sky.” He put it back in his pocket — somehow. “I had to get special permission. You’re safe now, Ron.” Lee reached out as if to push Fred and George over.

Like acrobats, or Stooges, Fred and George split asunder and Lee stumbled into the space they opened up. Ron squeaked, his phobia telling him the spider was closing in for the kill.

“Sounded a bit like a cricket there, Ron,” said a twin. They caught Lee’s elbows and set him on his feet.

The older boys left. Ron finally remembered that Quidditch is not life itself, and asked Will where he was from.

“We live in Scotland. We moved there when I was little, so I picked up a bit of accent. My father was a wizard, and mum knows about magic, but there aren’t any wizards where we live. Or much of anyone — it’s isolated but beautiful. I went to the local school, but mum is dead clever and she taught me a lot of science and math that the school didn’t touch. And when we found out I was a wizard, she made sure to find out what I would need to know, like writing with a quill and the wizard money. But that doesn’t mean I know what it is like to live with other wizard folk. I’ve read all my schoolbooks but it’s not the same, I’m sure.”

“What, all of them already?” Ron goggled.

“I read fast, but I have a lot of questions. I couldn’t try it out because they said I wasn’t allowed to use a wand out of school until I was of age.”

“You’ll probably end up in Ravenclaw.”

“Oh? Well, I’ll get by wherever I end up.”

“You do not want to end up in Slytherin. Nasty lot, they are.”

Will blinked at them. “But they’re just kids like us. Of course you can get nasty kids anywhere, but they’re still kids.”

“You’ll see,” said Ron darkly.

“Danvers, William.”

The boy came up to Professor McGonagall. As he approached the High Table, the Headmaster’s attention sharpened; as did others on the staff. Will glanced up at them, but then took his seat and with his back to the High Table, let the Sorting Hat be set on his head.

“Hmmph. You’re a bit of a mix. Have a lot of secrets to keep, don’t you?”

“To protect people, yes. So this sorting you do, are you assigning houses by what people are, or what they need? I am curious, though I am sure I will do well wherever you put me.”

“In that case, be HUFFLEPUFF!”

The Hat was lifted, Will thanked Professor McGonagall, then made his way towards the Hufflepuff table where he was made welcome.

Will found himself seated between Bones, Susan, and Harris, Thabisa. They had filed in politely, filling up the table in an orderly way. The older students were pleasant too, promising to perform introductions later when they went to the House common room. “No petty distinctions here. A Hufflepuff is a Hufflepuff,” said the senior prefect. The long tables were filled with food and everyone set to heartily.

Stephen Cornfoot, seated across from him, began to look awed at Will’s ability to clear the table. “How are you not the size of a house, Danvers?”

“Mum says I’ve got a growth spurt coming,” Will said. “Also, it’s good food and we don’t get such variety on our table. I’ve eaten a lot of porridge and sausage and cabbage and fish. And Mum’s fruit and nut salad that she swears by. And we travelled in the summers, that was fun, eating all kinds of cuisines. Pass those brussel sprouts, please.”

Everything went smoothly for a while. Will’s Monday classes went well. He had some success at all the magic he tried. With several of his Hufflepuff year mates, he attended Monday’s Orientation lecture and paid close attention. On Tuesday, he enjoyed working in the greenhouses in Herbology and in History of Magic, he simply read through the book trying to locate what period of history Binns was actually talking about, and made note of what he needed to research in the library. Then came their flying lesson.

It was not an especially windy day, but these being September in the Scottish Highlands, the wind gusted fitfully. Will freshened his resolve to bear whatever came as calmly as he could. As for the flying itself, he loved it as he knew he would. Will had a knack for flying, and no fear of heights. He studied the ways of his broom which seemed to have distinct little ways of its own which probably had to do with its years of use by students.

Over and over, the curls that tumbled over his brow lifted up and back, baring the scar. The lightning bolt.

Once on the ground, Zacharias Smith tapped him on the arm. “Hey, Danvers, what’s that on your forehead? That you keep always covered up.”

“It’s a scar. I don’t like people staring at it. They always do, you see. So I grew my hair out.”

“Oh,” said Zacharias, sounding non-plussed at Will’s matter of fact answer.

Eseld Roskelley and Susan Bones bent their heads together, whispering. Ernie MacMillan was frowning. “What,” he said, “Like Harry Potter or something?”

Will shrugged, hoping that would end it but not really expecting it.

Zacharias Smith gaped. The others just seemed confused.

The whispers continued. The whispers spread. Will sat back and let it happen. He wasn’t going to make it easy but he wasn’t going to lie. He liked being Will. And he was going to hang on to his name and his mum with everything he had.

Wednesday morning was his first Potions class. Will knew whispers spread fast, but he had to hold tight to his calm as he met a gauntlet of eyes from the Ravenclaw students, each and every one of whom was staring at his face.

That was nothing, compared to Professor Snape. Snape looked like a man who would notice what was under his rather large nose. He directed a couple of questions at Will, who having read the potion textbook and some other books on potions and plants, was able to answer them.

“At least you can read,” Snape said dryly. “But can you think?” His tone doubted it and Will didn’t see any use of answering back. He was working with Megan Jones, who appeared to have a good feel for what really made a potion come together. He made a lot of notes. She was very pretty, too, and he liked the lilt of her voice.

Many times he felt the sharp gaze of the teacher on him.

As he and Megan were bottling up their potions to turn in, Snape paused by him. “Have you worked with potions before, Danvers?”

“No, sir, but I made notes of everything Megan did.” He looked up at the teacher, not raising his face too much to avoid shifting his forelock away from the scar. Snape stared down at him anyway; stared into Will’s eyes. His sallow skin paled more, then his mouth tightened to a thin hard line and he swept away. He instructed the class to clean up their work, then began erasing the blackboard with short sharp strokes of his wand. The blackboard cracked and a piece fell loudly to the floor in the struck silent room. Snape half turned to them. “Don’t dawdle. Clean up and clear the room.” Just as Will thought he was going to make an escape, Snape added, “Not you, Danvers. Stay.”

Megan Jones drew a sharp breath and slipped past Will with a consoling touch to his shoulder. The room cleared quickly as if the force of Snape’s waiting pushed them out the door. Will sat quietly with his hands folded on the table in front of him and his book bag at his feet. When the last student was gone, Snape pivoted and pointed his wand at the door, closing it. Will heard the lock engage. He couldn’t help but tense up. This was a teacher, but his gut said the man would make a dangerous enemy.

Snape strode over to Will, his hand raised, but he paused well out of arm’s reach as if reconsidering his move. He flicked his wand, and Will’s hair moved off his forehead. Snape nodded as if having confirmed what he already knew. Then he turned to face the blackboard, and with a few muttered spells had repaired the damage and set a new potions recipe on it. This was much more complicated than the boil potion the first years had made and took a few minutes. Someone tried the door, then after a moment, knocked.

“Get your belongings and stand by the door, Danvers.” Snape undid whatever locking magic he’d put on the door, and it opened. The next class of students came hesitantly in, older Ravenclaws and Hufflepuffs. When the room was mostly full, Snape said, “Study the recipe and prepare your ingredients. Do not start brewing until I return or you will regret it. Come, Danvers.”

He strode out, robes flowing back from his tall form. Will fell into step behind him, but had to trot occasionally to keep up. He didn’t ask questions. Snape had left with him in full view of a class. He had a feeling he knew where Snape was taking him.

“Sherbet lemon,” Snape told a gargoyle, which opened a door which led up to Will’s guess: the headmaster’s office.

“Severus, my boy, what can I do for you?” Dumbledore regarded them both from behind his desk as if people barged in on him all the time. “William Danvers, is it not?”

“That is indeed the question, headmaster. Is he not William Danvers?”

Snape could soak his words in sarcasm so sour and bitter that Will hunched his shoulders under it. He had known it would be awkward. He and Mum had talked about how to handle it.

“William Henry Porter Danvers is the name on my school and health records.” He added, “As far as the British government is concerned. And William Danvers was the name on my Hogwarts letter.”

“Added a little, subtracted a little. Rather clever. Sherbet lemon?” He held out a candy dish to Will, who shook his head, then to Snape, who looked murderous. “They are my favourite. A little sweet, a little sour. Severus, I believe you have a class to get back to. Leave Mr. William Henry Porter Danvers in my hands.”

“Very well.” Snape glared at Will again, and left them.

“Have a seat, at least, Mr. Danvers.” He waited for Will to sit down before continuing. “There were people who were concerned when the name of Harry Potter did not show up on this year’s school roll as expected. Should you not still be living at 4 Privet Drive, Little Whinging, Surrey?” Dumbledore’s voice was still calm, but Will was sure he was not imagining the tension in the room.”

“They didn’t want me. Mum did.”

“And who is this lady you think of as your mother?”

Will’s hands curled into fists that were hard to relax again. “She’s Linda Kara Zora Danvers. When she found me miserable and hungry, she stole me away and took care of me. She could have been doing many things, but she chose to spend her time and care on me. We knew someone here would figure it out. But I need to learn wizardry, since that’s what I am and that’s why I’m here.”

“And Miss… Mrs?”

“Miss.”

“Miss Linda Kara Zora Danvers is not a witch?”

“No, but she’s had experience with people who use magic.”

“And what does she do, to keep the both of you?”

“She invests the money she makes selling her sculptures and ceramics. She does a little glass-blowing, too.”

The headmaster sat back in his chair and regarded Will thoughtfully. “I confess I am most curious as to how Miss Danvers was able to get custody of you.”

“She made up a good story then concocted the documents to support it,” Will said baldly. Yes, it was illegal. Mum’s record search showed that Harry’s arrival at the Dursley’s was not properly documented either.

“A lady of some determination. You make me very curious to meet her.”

Will squared his shoulders. “You should invite her to the school. I know she would love to see where I will be studying for the next seven years.”

So Will sent Dumbledore’s letter to mum with his own owl. He might have been only eleven but he knew this invitation didn’t mean Dumbledore had decided to let them be. Mum had worked out with him what to do if he was forced to go back. He had options.

So next Monday morning, at 7 am, Miss Danvers was met at the gates of Hogwarts by Professor Snape at his most aloof.

“Good morning. I’m Linda Danvers, here at the headmaster’s invitation. I think you must be Professor Snape, by Will’s description. You seem to have made an impression on him.” The woman was comely in a conventional blue-eyed blonde fashion. Her accent was odd — British, but flavoured by something foreign. Occasionally Snape heard an American inflection. He did not hear any indication that she was striving to disguise an accent, but she might have skill in such things. As conventional as her appearance was as a Muggle - simple gray wool trousers suit with a cream silk shirt and low-heeled gray suede boots, he felt something off. As he spoke (as little as manners allowed), he tried to pin down what was off. He hadn’t succeeded yet by the time they’d reached the Great Hall. She was to breakfast with Danvers… Potter… the damned Boy Who Lived, carrying Lily’s eyes in his Potter face.

The boy came to meet her, walking and not running. At least the woman had taught him manners and not let him grow up to be as obnoxious as his father. As they embraced he left them to it and rejoined the headmaster at the High Table.

The appearance of a Muggle stranger had the whole student body craning to look. The Hufflepuff table made room for her to sit with the boy. Having spoken to her Snape was not surprised she easily made herself at home there in their easily accepting company.

Dumbledore didn’t ask. He didn’t have to. Pomona had switched seats with Minerva to sit next to them. She hadn’t even tried to hide her glee that the Boy Who Lived had sorted Hufflepuff. Now she leaned in eagerly.

Snape sighed. “She is… too ordinary. An ordinary woman does not steal a wizard child and create a new identity for him. It is a well-polished front; it is effortless.” He was missing something. He kept staring knowing that everyone else was staring as well. What was one more set of eyes?

The Danvers woman wasn’t eating, not really. She had a cup of tea and a pastry which she was eating with a fork. Her hands… her hands were gloved. Fingerless mitts, but still not meant for dining. That was strange, but it was an obvious strange trait, not the deeply hidden strangeness.

“She looks so young,” said Pomona. “Her identity must be as contrived as Mr. Danvers-Potter.”

Snape raised an eyebrow and his opinion of Sprout.

Dumbledore made a brief negating wave of his hand. “Danvers will do for now.”

“We have not the resources here to uncover any subterfuge she has committed to satisfy the Muggle government’s record keeping. Nor can we keep the news from spreading of the boy’s identity. It’s too hot a topic for gossip, and the Ministry may already have wind of it,” Snape predicted.

“All the more reason to learn all we can before acting, while we have the time,” Dumbledore murmured. He was making his own observation.

Snape had learnt, often to his chagrin, to respect the man’s subtlety and intelligence. Even when his right hand made giant errors, Dumbldore’s left hand was making some unseen move. He should have never let the Potter boy out of his sight. Snape had been shocked to hear that he’d been left on Petunia’s hands. He was sure the bitter girl had grown into a hard and bitter woman. No doubt Potter needed the stern hand his father had never got, but to grow up like a Muggle was going too far. Snape also had dire suspicions of just how long it had taken Dumbledore to find out the boy was missing. He knew how many things could be hidden behind the doors of nice little houses on nice little streets. Dumbledore might be pro-Muggle but he was a wizard born and bred and didn’t understand the Muggle world. Even he, raised among Muggles, was now losing track of their rapidly changing technological prowess. Miss Danvers must be much better informed.

Minerva and Filius had reported that his first essays were well written and thought out. He had better penmanship than one usually saw of a Muggle-raised child. His spell-work was not as good as expected of a wizard-raised child, but it had only been a week. Talented Muggleborns often caught up quickly — take the Granger chit, who was undeniably talented.

Snape realised he hadn’t eaten any breakfast, and started eating some eggs. He should relax his attention and let his thoughts simmer and come together. If he’d noticed something off, he would be able to put words to it eventually. Meanwhile, Dumbledore would meet with her after breakfast.

“If you’re going to tell me that it is acceptable for a child to be kept in a cupboard, to be given little food in a house of plenty, and to be clad in cast-off rags too big for him, well then, headmaster, I can’t see much point in continuing the conversation.” She smiled at him. It was a lovely smile with perfect teeth and charming dimples and a sparkle in those blue eyes. “It is true there are poor children all over this world who have only that much, or even less, but many of them are not denied kindness and parental affection.”

There was something unreadable about those blue eyes, too. Dumbledore was such an accomplished Legilimens, such a strong natural talent, that he often picked up thoughts without trying. Not from this one. He felt she had mental armour of some kind, perhaps if only by natural talent. “Then why this child, if you know of others in need?”

“I’m not a wizard, or a witch. But I have my own abilities, and when I saw Will did as well, I knew I could help him in ways I can’t help other children.” She smiled again, looking out over the portraits of headmasters past. “But once I had him in my care, I helped him because I loved him. And I knew that part of what set me on the path is that I wanted someone to love. Which is selfish. Which is natural. They never even reported him missing, you know, his so-called relatives. I watched to see. He never came back and they were glad.” She shook her head, for the first time distressed. “I know there are worse cases of abuse, but I will never understand why they couldn’t love that child the way I did after the first ten minutes I spent with him.”

Dumbledore sighed internally and wrote the Dursleys off. The blood wards would have failed once Harry had a new home, a true home. Miss Danvers, high-handed and well-meaning, was not a wizard and did not understand the situation. Few could. Few had the dangerous knowledge he had hidden for all these years. Even Severus didn’t have all the pieces. Worse, he himself had not all the pieces, and still had to act. “I do not think that you can possibly understand, Miss Danvers, the upheaval you caused by running off with Harry Potter.”

“The Boy Who Lived. The Defeater of the Dark Lord. The Vanquisher of Voldemort. The Saviour of the Wizard World. That Harry Potter?” He must have ill-concealed his surprise, for she added, “I’m good at finding things out. I know about the Statute of Secrecy, and I understand its purpose, but I am very good at gathering information. I once had friends who could use magic, though perhaps not in the same way as wizards.” Her smile changed to something tender and sad. “Unless any of your people cast spells by saying words backwards? No? Magic is something I must be wary of in my dealings with it. That said, I don’t worry about myself but about Will. I know he’s a target, and I know that makes me a target.”

“Living you with unknown he was safe, but that is already changing. The cat will not go back into the hat.”

“I know.” She looked at him now squarely. He wondered if what Severus had not been able to put into words was that sense of how old her eyes were in that young, even girlish face. “I am a great defence against his enemies, but there is always a limit to how much you can protect someone.”

The prophecy, did she know? No, it was simply truth she spoke, and what sounded like the experience to speak of it. No one had spoken all the words of the prophecy since Sybill Trelawney and no one had heard it all but him. He bent his head and let her see some of his pain. “This is true.”

“You underestimate me.”

A chill ran down his spine. There was no arrogance. There was no threat. There was pain.

“It can’t be otherwise. I do not know how to create a context where I could make you understand what I am capable of. In my experience very few ever have. But I can show you something. It is—” she laughed with the pain of hearing her own words twist in her mouth, a pain Dumbledore knew, “—something I picked up in my travels.” She took one glove off and offered her left hand across the desk for his perusal. A green light showed through her flesh. It was not the flesh itself that glowed. There was some force conjoined with her, that flare and flickered like a faceted jewel turning in the light. It was magic of a kind he did not recognise.

“Fascinating. The stories of your travels must be a wonder indeed, Miss Danvers. I would venture to say that you come of long-lived stock?”

“You are correct. But I have no family to call on here but the one I have made.” She drew her hand back and slipped the glove on it. “I am trying to be frank. If you find what I have to say alarming, I understand that. A man with as many duties as you have in these… uncertain times has to wonder if I am a new threat you have to deal with. All I can say, is look to Will. Judge for yourself if I have been a good parent to him despite our illicit beginning.”

Dumbledore said softly, “He looks well and happy. I would not wish less for him.” Fawkes gave a soft cry and Miss Danvers gave the bird her attention.

“That is a phoenix, is it not? Do they die to be reborn? Is that immortality if one dies over and over again?”

“I would say it is immortality to be born over and over again.”

She turned back to him, smiling like sunshine. “Some might count you an optimist, Headmaster. But I like that.”

At last he sent for the Head Girl to show Miss Danvers around the school. He had much to think on. Perhaps this new element in the situation was a beneficial one. He could hope so; he was used to the pain of it. This was a time to watch. There would be others putting Miss Danvers to the trial. If she had strength, it would be shown. His wand wrote on the air: ‘William Henry Porter Danvers’ and below it, ‘Linda Kara Zora Danvers’. Was ‘Kara Zora’, or something close to it, Miss Danvers real name? If so it meant nothing to him at the moment. He rose and went to the pensieve. This memory must be watched again.

Mum joined him again for lunch. As usual she ate little — this time, only a handful of grapes. He wondered if anyone noticed, but if they did, they did not ask. Mum was good at keeping a conversation going. “Basalt is my favourite medium for sculpture. It’s very hard, but I can’t work with it without imaging the molten rock it used to be and trying to recall that fluidity.” She shook her head at Justin’s question. “No, I’ve never had a gallery showing. It’s not something I’m working towards. I like keeping my prices modest so I can sell to people who love the pieces. That gives me satisfaction. I feel sad for a piece that sits on my shelf unsold, as if I failed it.”

Will was trying to catch Cedric Diggory’s eye. The older boy glanced down the table at him, and hastily patted his mouth with a napkin. “Oh, Miss Danvers, Will told me he’d like to show you some Quidditch while you’re visiting. The season hasn’t started yet — we haven’t even held tryouts, but last year’s returning players still get together to practice. You and Will are welcome to join us on the pitch after lunch.”

“Thank you, I look forward to it.”

Will had not himself yet been allowed on the pitch. It was normally reserved for players and their guests unless there was a match. Carrying his broom, Cedric led them up into the Hufflepuff section of the stands. Then he mounted up and zoomed off. Mum giggled. “They really are broomsticks. That’s amazing.”

“They’re more comfortable than they look. I’ve only had one flying lesson, but I loved it.” He’d remembered a lot of what Ron told him on the train, and added to it since realising he loved to fly and wanted to try out for the team as soon as he was allowed. “It can be a rough sport, but there are teachers ready to help someone who falls. The professionals play with faster brooms and they do have a lot of injuries, but wizards heal fast.”

“I’ve noticed that about you. I saw your infirmary. It was good to know magic has many means to heal injuries and illnesses.” She bumped her shoulder against his. “You want to play, don’t you? It looks like fun.” Out on the field, the players were down near the ground having a conference. Will led his mum down. He wasn’t sure that Cedric would be able to talk the team into it…

“Oi! Danvers! Come take a broom. You get a victory lap for having a pretty mum!” yelled Tamsin Applebee. She held out her broom to him and he took it with eager hands. “Mind you, not a twig out of place. I hear you’ve got talent, but don’t go wild.”

“I’ll take care of it, thank you so much!” Will called the broom into his hand and swung a leg over. This was much better than the novice brooms the first years worked with. He soared into the air, whooping.

Cedric Diggory approached Miss Danvers as she watched her son fly. If Will Danvers could fly like that now, all he needed to do was to show he could work with a Quaffle or a Bludger or a Snitch, and he’d be on next year’s team. “Would you like to go up too? I’m not sure if you can fly, but you could ride tandem with me.” She turned her smiling blue eyes on him and he felt a blush go up his ears and down his neck. “That is a kind offer, and I appreciate your courtesy, Mr. Diggory.” Her voice lowered, dimples playing at the corners of her mouth, “But I don’t need a broom.” She winked at him, and rose off the ground. With no wand, with no incantation, taking to the air as if it took her up into itself.

“Will!”

He looked to the call, and saw as he hoped, Mum flying up to join him. He swooped through the highest scoring ring and she flew through another and caught up with him. He felt like he was flying fast, the wind battering at his face, yet she was stretching into the wind like a cat.

“So… can I have a broom for Christmas?”

She laughed, spinning through the air like a bullet but staying parallel to him. He glanced down. The Hufflepuff Quidditch players were staring up agape. Mum came up straight beside him again, flying on her side. “You can have a broom for Christmas. But you’ll have to tell me which one you want.”

“Whahoo!” He plunged into a dive, but in deference to Tamsin he pulled up and came to the ground at a moderate pace. Mum floated down until her feet touched as lightly as a snowflake. “Thanks again, Applebee. I’ve always wanted to fly with Mum.”

“No problem,” Tamsin said faintly.

Mum looked in the direction of the school, then added, “I’m grateful. Everyone here at Hogwarts has been so welcoming and generous with their time. But Professor Snape is approaching, which means it is time for me to go. I’m glad my son finds himself among such fine young people.”

Sure enough, Professor Snape entered the pitch and headed their way.

Will hugged his mum as hard as he could. “It’s brilliant, Mum. I’ll study hard and I’ll have so much to tell you at the holidays.”

“Send me some mail, too! Be kind to poor old mum,” she laughed. She cupped his face between her hands and planted a firm kiss on his forehead, in front of everyone and Professor Snape. 

“Ow, Mum,” he said, trying not to blush or wriggle and failing. And Snape right there, with his sardonic black eye on them.

“Sorry, kiddo, but everyone needs to see you have someone who loves you.” She grinned unrepentantly, then turned a less exuberant smile on Snape.

“Come to see me off, Professor? I am glad to have visited, and hope you are not too put out. But you must not trouble yourself to see me to the gates.” She offered him her hand. “It’s been a pleasure to meet you, sir.”

Looking sourer than usual, Snape shook hands. “It is what we do for guests,” he said significantly, “When it’s time for them to leave us.”

“Quite so, and it is high time. Good-bye, Professor Snape, everyone.” As she spoke, she rose so lightly from the ground that it was easy to miss until you realised you were looking up at her.

Will was looking at Snape, and so caught that split second of surprise on his face before he folded it away. Then Will was free to look up and wave back at Mum, who held her body so she could look at him until she was farther up than he’d ever dared to fly. Then she flexed like a diver, and sped away, up and out towards the southwest, into the sun.

He would never fly like that. But Will would fly in whatever way he could.

Deprived of his mission, Snape herded Will back to the castle. His mouth was tight with unasked questions.

He also didn’t tell Will that he had a bright red lipstick kiss on his forehead. Naturally it was Zacharias Smith who pointed it out.

That Christmas, Professor Dumbledore received a heavy box, with a simple note of thanks from Miss Danvers. In the box was a geode carved into egg shape. Its outside was polished except where it showed cracks. They must have been opened deliberately, to allow light to refract through the red crystals like embers about to catch fire.

FIN

**Author's Note:**

> Kara here is one I have several story ideas for. This is the Supergirl who died in 'Crisis on Infinite Earths'. There is a Christmas special where she is shown after her death. This always stuck with me, and now I imagine her drifting from reality to reality. She has died, but is not exactly dead, as she was never now exactly born. Yes, that on her hand is the Mark from Dragon Age: Inquisition. Imagine a story where this Kara was the Inquisitor (in DA:O, there was a brief encounter with this old couple who found a baby - that inspired me) who begins with the Mark on her hand and a great deal of memories missing from her head. She figures out how to channel energy through a staff and everyone thinks she's a mage. Noooope. Here in the HPU, she spots Harry performing accidental magic, sees he is abused, and decides to adopt him. With her advanced scientific knowledge and training from people like Batman(!) she has no trouble hacking into government systems and forging documents. And she listens for the name 'Harry Potter' and finds out about the Wizarding world. They don't ward everywhere. She gives Harry an alias that contains his real name to give him continuity. William is so she can call him 'Will', after the protagonist from Susan Cooper's 'The Dark Is Rising' series. Will being a boy who has unexpected and mysterious powers that bring him into a strange new world. I do not know if I will write more but I believe Kryptonian heat vision will do as well as Fiendfyre to destroy horcruxes, fight me. Also: Kara made a serum with her blood and Harry's to overcome his malnutrition, which also fixed his eyesight. He has no super-powers, he's just a very healthy boy. OTOH, the idea of Voldemort using that in his ritual is scary. Also also: the Mark improves her ability to protect herself from magic being used on her. But she is prepared to strike first -- this is a Kara fresh from running the Inquisition. She exited Thedas having confronted Solas and deciding he was incapable of trusting her enough to work with her and she didn't want to fight a new war where she would probably have to oppose her friends. Once Kara decided to use all her will to tame the Mark, it became hers, though she doesn't fully understand it yet.


End file.
